


The Haze: Fairness

by Gem_Gem



Series: The Haze [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kissing, Loss of bum Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Multiple Orgasms, Power Bottom John, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Indecisive decisions decided</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haze: Fairness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittieHill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/gifts).



> So tired...need sleep...enjoy!

John adjusted the towel at his waist and stared at his neatly made bed in nervousness, feeling completely out of his mind, agitated and oddly, terrifyingly eager. The headache was still throbbing in his temples like a collection of mockingly daunting drums and John cringed and scowled, rubbing his face and peeking at the lube in his other hand. It was silicone based and definitely his; though he couldn’t believe that Sherlock had nothing similar in his bedroom, he was still human and although John hadn’t seen Sherlock as a sexual being until the other night, he knew Sherlock must indulge every so often. John sighed and juggled the lube bottle deftly; only realising Sherlock was standing behind him when he caught the distorted reflection of him in the plastic.

“You’re tense,” Sherlock stated from the doorway, still wearing his dressing gown. His hair was mussed and faintly damp, clinging to his face and ears and neck, curling over his pale skin like dark tattoos. “You can’t be tense.”

“Shut up,” John grumbled and turned slightly to face him, straightening his shoulders and spine with a low glare. “You can’t really lecture me about relaxation. You were only relaxed because you were drunk—”

Sherlock’s mouth quirked and he brought the scotch from where he’d been holding it behind his back, hefting it and strolling into the room, nudging the door closed behind him with his foot. The way he moved was a little skittish and innocent and nervous, and John frowned a little with a pursed mouth, taking the offered bottle. He wondered if Sherlock had ever had any sexual relations at all and followed the loose neck of the dressing gown to see his chest beneath it, catching sight of a pink and pebbled nipple with a sharp and fiery shatter of arousal in his pelvis. John had seen Sherlock naked and topless before, but it seemed different after their night together, and he looked at the scotch and then Sherlock with a glower.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sherlock scoffed, glancing at John’s bed and stuffing his hands into his dressing gown pockets as he rocked on his feet. “We don’t have to get smashed again. Just take a sip. Think of it as a confidence booster. A relaxant. – And it might help with the hangover seeing as you didn’t actually take the ibuprofen tablets I gave you.” 

With a grimace, John took a large mouthful and then gave it back over roughly, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this…” he mumbled and shivered, suddenly feeling cold and overexposed. “This is crazy…right? We’re crazy? – God, we’ve been drunk before but this has never happened, so why did this happen this time?”

“Should we kiss?” Sherlock abruptly asked and leaned down to push his mouth against John’s quickly but gently. His lips were just as plump and warm as John’s other favourite part of him, and John inhaled sharply and jerked his head back, staring at Sherlock who then screwed his nose up and curled his lip with a shake of his head. “No. Best not – Probably seemed better in a stupor—Right, get on the bed then.”

John snorted and then laughed in sarcastic disbelief, folding his arms, “Oh yeah, like you’re suddenly in charge of the situation? Yeah, no, I don’t think so. I’m the most experienced out of us remember? You’ve not done this – To be honest, that’s probably why I’m so bloody tense.” 

“I’m a quick learner,” Sherlock offered and trailed leisurely around to John’s bedside drawer, opening it to rummage inside and pull out a whole, long line of condom packets. He looked at them all, lifting his arm up, and then arched his eyebrow, turning his eyes to John in hilarity and then annoyance. “Really?”

“Shut up – And I’m going to ignore how you knew exactly where I kept them, because that’s weird enough. Now, put them back—Why are you reading them? You don’t need to check the date on them! I bought them only a couple of weeks ago because I…well; I thought I was going to need them…not for this though! For…for something else…”

Sherlock smirked and tore one square off, dropping the rest back into the open drawer as he fingered the packet between his long and faintly trembling fingers, “Ribbed?”

“Yes. Now, seriously, shut up,” John glared and motioned Sherlock over irritably, feeling his skin prickle and his gut churn with uneasiness and dread as Sherlock wandered back over, standing so close that the heat radiated off him in thick, engulfing waves. He looked Sherlock over, paying a quick glance at Sherlock’s groin, and coughed at the obvious bump of Sherlock’s semi-erect penis, stupidly and completely surprised by it. “R-right…uh…I…need you to—Wait, I, um, I don’t know if I really want to—”

“It was your idea,” Sherlock murmured and was suddenly touching him, sweeping one large, hot palm across John’s chest and down his left arm, following every curve, dip and bulge of his tendons and biceps. He admired John’s hand for a few long moments, tilting his head and rubbing at the calluses he found there, and then flushed prettily up his throat and stepped back. “Fine. Let’s not do this.”

John nodded but captured Sherlock’s hand before he could move away completely, “Where did you put the scotch?” he asked, only spotting the bottle atop his bedside table when Sherlock looked deliberately at it with a huff. “Okay…good. I might just have another sip – Then you can…you know…then we can…move along…”

“I’m not so good at foreplay,” Sherlock sighed and fetched the bottle, still clutching the condom packet in one hand. “But I know what you like.”

“Heh. Do you indeed?”

Sherlock scowled and knocked the bottle into John’s bare chest, “Yes. I do. Not only do I live with you – with my bedroom below yours I might add – but I am an adult male, with a penis, so I think I know what you’ll like,” he said curtly, watching John take another awkward, coughing mouthful before he put the bottle away and smoothed his hands up and over John’s puckered nipples. The condom packet scratched irksomely and uncomfortably at John’s skin, so he plucked it from Sherlock’s fingers and shoved it into one pocket of his dressing gown.

“Oh, piss with the foreplay,” John told him, and after checking that he had indeed closed his curtains, he faced the bed, picked up the lube and popped off the cap. He stared at it for longer than he needed to, willing himself to calm and relax, and then untied his towel with a clench of his jaw, letting it puddle at his feet. “I…did stuff in the shower anyway…thought it would be better so we don’t waste time…”

“I want to see your face,” Sherlock told him just as John had gotten the courage up to smear his hand and fingers with lube and reach back, and John gaped at him with parted lips in confusion until Sherlock motioned with his hands to better illustrate his need. “I want to see your face…”

“No.”

Sherlock frowned and grabbed John’s wrist in a tight grip, “Why not? Because you didn’t see mine? – This is different. Obviously. I want to see your face. I need to make sure—Just turn around,” he ordered but then impatiently and physically manhandled John around, pressing a thigh between his legs and grinding it against his cock without pause.

“Ah! Sher—fuck!” John spluttered, grappling at Sherlock’s strong arms and chest, slicking his skin in lube in the process. Sherlock pushed him back and loomed over, his eyes darker than John could ever remember seeing them before. The look on Sherlock’s face made him timid and eager in a clashing twister of anticipation and excitement, and John narrowed his eyes and dug the bottle of lube out from where it was digging into the small of his back when he’d landed on it.

Sherlock snatched it away from him and heaved John further up the bed in a sudden show of masculinity and strength, “Yes. I will fuck you, John,” he drawled and leaned over him to push wet, open-mouthed, messy kisses from his shoulder to his squirming chest and then lower. 

When Sherlock’s chin bumped John’s navel, he shoved Sherlock off, “Oi! You…you don’t need to do any of that!—And I thought you said no to the kissing?”

“…True,” Sherlock conceded after a brief pause and a shrug, and put the lube and condom close by, unknotting his dressing gown with one hand and then shrugging out of it completely. 

“Can we just…just—Wait a moment. Wait, Sherlock…” Exhaling shakily, John grabbed him when he turned to push their bare skin together, and forced his way on top, seizing Sherlock’s wrists and pinning them above his head. A spark of delight shot up his spine when Sherlock’s mouth fell open in shock and he couldn’t help but grin and lift his eyebrows. “What did I tell you about being in control here? – As much as I admire your—”

“Spunk?” Sherlock added, his mouth twisting on a wide and lewd smirk before he burst into deep rumbles of laughter, his stomach muscles bunching. His penis bounced, flushed but still only half-hard between them, and John rolled his eyes with a huff, trying to seem unimpressed and uninterested. “Sorry. Forgive me – You were saying?”

“Just let me…do things, okay?” John told him, shifting his weight and kneeling up, releasing Sherlock’s wrists to reapply the lube to his left hand. There was a buzzing through his veins, a humming that warmed his skin and made John almost hyperaware of his body and Sherlock’s, and he had half a mind to blame it on the drink before he realised it was another dowsing of arousal from the way Sherlock’s arched his head back on the mattress. “I, um, I’m going to…you know, prepare myself now – Could you…not watch?”

Sherlock blinked and scrutinised him intently, and then they were suddenly rolling over with Sherlock on top, his right hand pushing into John’s left to smear into the lube and coat his fingers, “I’m doing it. You’ve done enough.”

“Sherlock—!” John started strictly, trailing off into a high-pitched gasp when Sherlock pushed their bodies together and ground down, pressing between John’s tensing legs with a wet but soft exhale against John’s cheek and chin. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered and then he reached between them with his slicked hand, staring down at John’s panicky and stunned face as he brushed his knuckles along John’s inner thigh and the curve of one buttock.

“I’ll go slow first,” Sherlock told him and held onto John a second as he flailed and then tried to sit up. He followed John up and pulled his hand away, but butted heads with him gently and then turned aside to rub their noses together. “Don’t you trust me?”

John paused and gazed into Sherlock’s eyes, being a little too close to his face to properly see anything in any real good detail, though the closeness and the sensation of Sherlock’s breath against his skin calmed him. He inhaled the scent of Sherlock’s shampoo and skin, thought about how he’d moved and looked and felt the night before, and opened the gates to a whole sea of desire and yearning to overtake the whole of his body, feeling it bubbling in the ends of his fingers and toes.

“Yes. I trust you. Entirely. Yeah…” 

He felt Sherlock’s nod, felt the soft brush of his fluffy and frizzy curls, and then lay back down with a shaky sigh, forcing a grimacing smile onto his face when Sherlock looked down at him. Sherlock cocked one eyebrow briefly, used more lube, covering his right hand generously more than his left, and curled his left around John’s penis, engulfing the head in heat and slick. John’s hips jerked upward automatically, and he pushed hard into the tightening ring of Sherlock’s wet fingers in rough and short bursts of eagerness, losing himself to the sensations with a long shudder and a moan. He only briefly noticed when the first of Sherlock’s fingers slipped through the first ring of muscles, and choked on an oddly embarrassing noise in the back of his throat.

“Ah! Shit…fuck, wait…wait a moment, be careful,” John panted with a ragged series of wheezing breaths, gripping at Sherlock’s corded arms, unable to focus on the finger pressing slowly and cautiously into him when Sherlock’s other hand twisted and squeezed around his glans. Once Sherlock’s finger flexed and brushed directly against his prostate, John stiffened with a hitching breath and arched off the bed once and then twice, before writhing between Sherlock’s hands and hissing through his clenched teeth. 

“Good?” Sherlock asked him, voice deep and dark, and vibrating through John’s skull with a torrent of pleasurable tingles down his spine.

“Fuck yes!”

Sherlock’s smirk unfurled slow and filthy and ridiculously sexy in response, “Good,” he purred guttural and cunning, and added a second finger only when he circled and teasingly pressed at John’s weeping slit. 

There was a faint burn of stretching and aching, and John screwed his eyes shut and curled his toes, but Sherlock shifted and stroked both fingertips over his prostate, sweeping them across one at a time and then both at once, and John bucked his hips with a loud and broken moan. He allowed himself to envision and remember Sherlock’s long, thin, talented fingers when he would play the violin, and then when he would suck them clean with an eager pouting of his lips and a flick of his clever, clever tongue. The mental image was enough to enflame him with such a pouring of overwhelming arousal that he opened his eyes quickly and wiggled away a few inches if only to calm the painful beating of his heart.

“You okay?” Sherlock whispered and the sight of him with one hand wrapped around John’s thick and hard erection, and the other between his tensing thighs, was almost too much for John to handle. “John?”

“Yeah.” Breathing heavily, he nodded and relaxed back against the bed, clenching both hands into the bed sheets in discomfort when Sherlock proceeded to slide in a third finger. “Ah…God…I think I’m a little tipsy, so it’s not that bad…”

Sherlock laughed quietly and tilted his head, keeping up the movements of both of his hands, keeping the rhythms very slightly different with ease and making it harder and harder for John to concentrate, “Well, you did have two mouthfuls of scotch. From the bottle – Although, saying that…I did dilute it beforehand so…”

John blinked and lifted his head, “You did what?—Oh fuck! Sherlock…wait…wait…” he suddenly gasped, feeling the rushing of impending orgasm and quickly trying to control it. It washed over him, bursting and rushing in pleasurable ripples through his groin, and he groaned and arched, but when he came back to himself Sherlock was staring at him looking gobsmacked, his hands still in place. “Wh-what? I…I’m sorry all right? I couldn’t help it, you…you just—”

“You…didn’t ejaculate…”

For a moment John just frowned at him, and then he glanced down at his hard cock, “Oh…right…well, okay, good,” he breathed, rocking up when Sherlock stroked him slowly. “Never really done that before but it’s not…n-not uncommon.”

“Really?” Sherlock managed as he gazed at John with what seemed like utter amazement, a blush of arousal painting from the arch of his cheekbones to just below his nipples.

“Yeah…yeah, uh, it’s the…the pubococcygenus muscle,” John panted, shivering and writhing as he spoke, his vision unfocused and hazy. “It controls ejaculation and…well, I…I must have tensed it or…yeah—I did wonder why it felt different.”

Sherlock briefly touched his prostate again and leaned over him to lift his brow and grin, “You, John, are truly a marvel,” he rumbled and continued to shift his hands, keeping his motions slow and teasing, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if you can do it again…”

John lifted his head as quickly as he could and swallowed thickly, “No! Don’t you…you dare,” he said, staring into Sherlock’s face and then flicking his gaze down briefly, feeling nervous again and tightening around Sherlock’s moving fingers. “but…um…but you can…you know, you can… put it in now if you want…”

“…Yes.” Sherlock released John’s cock and then sat back, carefully retracting his fingers wetly. The feeling of emptiness was not something John thought he’d ever dislike but as Sherlock moved away and grabbed for the condom, John was so eager to be filled with Sherlock again and with such intent and impatience, that he blushed and coughed in embarrassment, making Sherlock hesitate and look over at him.

John shook his head in response, humiliated, and watched as Sherlock tore into the packet and then shuffled over on his knees, slipping the condom over his firm, flushed and wet penis, “M-make sure to…to—God…to get a good amount of lube on the…on it,” he stuttered, worried about the size of Sherlock as he moved closer.

Sherlock obeyed, coating himself and then John, almost using all of the remaining last bit of lube with a fierce look of concentration on his face, “Tell me if you want to stop. I’ll stop,” he told John huskily, fumbling and abruptly shoving a pillow under John’s hips. He paused when John parted his legs in invitation, and caught John’s gaze, leaning down over him to push their forehead together and breathe into John’s parted mouth.

Nodding, John let go of the bed to run the fingers of his right hand up Sherlock’s arm, dancing them across his shoulder and then into his hair. The motion was tender and filled with affection, conveying all the things that John couldn’t seem to say or do as he sank his hand into the thick, soft curls and squeezed tightly, once, before letting go. Sherlock scooted back a little and lifted up, aligning himself with John’s body with one hand, and John felt like all the air had suddenly left his lungs as the realisation that he was about to be fucked like he fucked Sherlock hit him like a tone of bricks.

As Sherlock pressed in, the stretch and burn made John hiss and grimace uncontrollably, and he inhaled deeply, relaxing the muscles in his anus as much as he could to allow Sherlock entrance. The unsettling aching from the inside out was then overcome with the sensation of fullness, and it wasn’t until the head of Sherlock’s cock was finally inside him that Sherlock stopped and let John get accustomed to everything. His arse fluttered and twitched around the intrusion, shooting prickles of pleasure and soreness in twirling and confusing spirals through his erection, and he blinked and huffed in confusion as his nipples tingled as well.

Giving another jerky nod had Sherlock going deeper and John breathed through his nose as steadily as he could before the thick shape of Sherlock’s cock touched his prostate, and then his entire lower body jolted upward in such a brisk, eager and wild thrust that Sherlock grunted and pushed in completely, pressing his body to John’s own and breathing raggedly into his open mouth.

“Oh God…” John moaned, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The feeling was nothing that John had felt before, and as Sherlock twitched and throbbed excitedly inside him, John gripped at his arms and nodded again, frantically. “Yeah…yes…fuck...move…I…want…”

Nudging snugly against John, Sherlock rutted and groaned, touching John’s chest and sides and thighs, and then spreading John’s legs further as he gripped them, so tightly that John knew there would be bruises the next day. Sherlock panted into John’s chin and then pulled slowly out and back in, almost perfectly mimicking the way John’s own hips at worked as he had thrust into Sherlock with gathering speed. Light exploded behind his eyes with each inward thrust, the head of Sherlock’s cock lightly brushing and teasing around and over his prostate each and every time, and the hot sliding of him working into John’s open body with a faint squish made the blush on John’s cheeks hotter.

Just as the rhythm shifted from slow and teasing and affection into something more erratic and enthusiastic, Sherlock lifted his head with a loud gasp, “Oh! Oh! Oh my God…I…I remember,” he laughed breathlessly and turned his dark lust filled eyes down to John with a wonky and predatory grin. “I remember how you fucked me, John.”

“Shit…fucking God…” John grunted and turned his head aside a little as Sherlock bent down and bit into his shoulder, jolting his weight forward in a short, fervent roll into John’s arse. “Ah! Y-yeah…fuck…Sherlock, don’t do that…you feel so—”

“Good,” Sherlock purred, finishing the sentence and then moving with a fluid undulating of his hips, grinding inside John with a wet gasp of pleasure, “you felt so good then…and you feel really so very good now…”

John whined highly and pushed up against the length of Sherlock’s front, curling one arm around his shoulders, “Yeah…” he breathed, throwing his head back with a lift of his pelvis and grinning wildly. “…Again.”

“Yes,” Sherlock hissed, and worked languidly in and out of him, only moving a little faster when John moaned and squeezed his waist with his knees, “You’ll have to take me again…it’s only fair… seeing as you’ll be enjoying another orgasm soon…that’s one more than me…”

Sherlock’s fingers cupped the back of John’s neck lovingly when John’s body jerked along with Sherlock’s thrusting, and he leaned up and stared into John’s eyes as he drove into John with long and slow and zealous pushes, his eyes lidding as his entire body rotated and swelled into the movement.

John dug his fingers into Sherlock’s sides and angled his hips greedily, “Yeah…fine…just…please, f-fuck me s’more, Sherlock…”

Sherlock bucked roughly in quick succession and then slowed down, “Does it feel good, John? Do…do you like the way my cock stretches and fills you? …Is this what you want?”

“Filthy, fucking mouth,” John huffed with an interested moan, hearing some of his own words repeated back to him with a shiver down his spine. “Yeah…God, yeah…you feel so good…fucking sexy…so hot and amazing…”

Grunting loudly, Sherlock pulled back with a tremble and glanced down, watching as he left John’s body, and John whimpered. Gritting his teeth, he clawed a sudden line down Sherlock’s back at the ache and faint sting connected with the slow, wet glide. It shot fireworks of desire and satisfaction straight to his neglected cock, and he lifted his body up to chase Sherlock’s provocative retreat. It felt good, almost painfully good, and John reached to grab Sherlock’s waist and drag him back, wrapping his legs around him and clinging as he rocked on Sherlock with abandon. 

“Oh…yes…yes,” he heard Sherlock begin to chant, and moaned when he then seemed to lose all control of himself and thrust into John harder and faster and deeper, all but purring when John gripped handfuls of his flexing and clenching backside.

John could feel the coiling, rough building of his looming orgasm and jerked his hips up to meet Sherlock, murmuring nonsense into his panting mouth, knowing that his climax would be intense because of the pointed tipped wisps of gathering pleasure, which clawed throughout his pelvis, curled around the base of his cock, rippled through his balls and then shot tinges in his arse. They were crowded close together, eyes glazed but locked, and John gripped Sherlock’s bottom harder, letting his mouth fall open as his orgasm exploded through him.

When he came to, Sherlock was draped heavily over him and was shaking violently, near to hyperventilating into John’s shoulder. They only separated when John exhaled a very loud and shaky breath, and Sherlock shuffled back, carefully pulling out from John and rolling to flop down beside him after taking the condom off, tying it, and lobbing it aside.

“Oi…” John murmured with a soft frown, shaking in aftershock and turning his head to watch Sherlock blow his fringe from his face. “You better find that, pick it up, and dispose of it properly…”

Sherlock smiled and unexpectedly rolled over to gather John up for a cuddle, mindful of the splatters of ejaculate covering his juddering stomach, “Your bum will be sore later…”

John laughed quietly and then louder, incapable of stopping, until Sherlock leaned up with an expectant expression and John closed his eyes to accept the very light and warm kiss. It deepened rapidly and John moaned and combed his unsteady fingers into Sherlock sweat-matted hair, holding him close and savouring the mixed scent of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry for Sherlock's dirty mouth
> 
> Feedback fuels me


End file.
